


Small Potatoes

by 30xf



Series: 201 Days Of X Files [92]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:40:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24211501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30xf/pseuds/30xf
Series: 201 Days Of X Files [92]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/315719
Kudos: 7





	Small Potatoes

Van Blundht has been taken away, and the police have taken my statement. Mulder was considerate enough to leave before that point, thankfully. I could barely look him in the eye, let alone have him hear about how his look alike got me drunk and almost seduced me. After I see the police to the door, they pause and consider the kicked in frame. Both officers express their concern over me staying in the apartment with the door in this condition. The older officer, a man, seems to be warning me out of obligation. His younger partner, also male, seems genuinely concerned for me. But I've had enough of that particular kind of furrowed brow and sad eyes for one night. I assure them I'll be fine, reminding them I'm an FBI agent, and close the door behind them. Almost to spite me, the door opens on it's own, with nothing to latch onto in the frame. The officers are already down the hall and occupied with their own conversation, so they pay me no mind as I repeat the process a couple more times. Something in my brain (probably the better part of a bottle of wine) expects the door to stay closed at some point. After the fifth time, I remember there's a chain I can fasten, but before I can reach for it, Mulder comes back through the door, startling me.

"Jesus, Mulder," I gasp, my hand on my chest as I sigh my frustration. 

"Sorry; didn't mean to scare you," he avoids looking at me, turning to the door and trying to close it. He repeats the action only once before giving up.

"You fucked it up pretty good," I note, more out of observation than anger. 

"Yeah, sorry about that," he scratches his head, considering the problem, and then pulls the chain over and latches it. 

I head for the living room, suddenly remembering the mess on the table. "Don't be sorry," I shrug. "Nothing to be sorry about." It still hasn't quite sunk in what happened not long ago. Nor have I let myself consider what might have happened if Mulder hadn't burst through the door. I like to think I was only moments from pushing Van Blundht away, but I can't figure out why I hadn't done it already.

"Need some help with that?" he asks, gesturing to the empty bottle and two glasses I've already picked up. 

"Nope, I've got it," I tell him, passing him to head to the kitchen. I realize I'm being a little short with him, but only because I can't help it. I'm angry with myself, not him. He did absolutely nothing wrong. I deposit the glasses in the sink and set the bottle on the counter. I head to the fridge and grab myself a beer, pulling the tea towel from the handle of the oven door to protect my hand while I twist the cap off.

"Haven't you had enough to drink already?" he nods toward the bottle on the counter, and I choose to believe he's trying to make an awkward joke, rather than lecture me on my alcohol consumption. 

I take a long pull from the beer as I toss the cap into the sink. "Oh, I don't think I've had quite enough to drink to deal with today," I tell him, squinting not at him, but just past him. I turn to tuck the towel back into it's spot, and Mulder surprises me by appearing in the kitchen seemingly suddenly.

"Scully, he..." he trails off, sounding unsure of himself. When I turn back to him, he realizes he's closer than he had intended. I hold up my free hand, signalling he's too close, and he backs up to lean against the dining room table. He fidgets with his tie for a moment before trying again, "He didn't, uh..." He gestures vaguely to my mid-section, and I get the gist of what he's trying to ask.

"Nothing happened," I relieve him of the burden of articulating his question. "What you saw was...that was it. Nothing happened."

"I didn't see anything," he assures me. I can't tell if he's playing along, or if he's pretending he didn't see what looked like himself hovering over me poised for a kiss.

I take another drink and offer him the bottle. He takes it without hesitation and nearly finishes it in one go. I return to the fridge and retrieve the last two bottles. I've never been a huge fan of beer, but I don't mind it sometimes. I only keep it in the house for Mulder, as I know he prefers it. I myself prefer hard liquor, but I realize that's not as socially acceptable to sit at home alone and drink, so I usually go with wine if anything. Mulder takes both bottles from me, opening one easily and handing it back before opening his own. He keeps the caps in his hand, rolling them around like dice as we continue avoiding eye contact. 

"I just don't understand it," I tell him finally. For his part, he doesn't try to say anything. Normally, any silence from me would be seen by him as an opportunity to speak. I almost think he came back here out of a feeling of obligation. I'm sure he assumes I'm embarrassed, which I am. And I'd honestly much rather be alone, but since he's here, I might as well think out loud. "I mean...those other women...he was trying to get them pregnant, because that's what they wanted." I try for a moment to remember if I had even fleetingly mentioned having children. Mulder had joked about us getting married, but as far as I know, no one else had heard that. "Why me?" I sigh, trying not to sound too sorry for myself. I take another sip of my beer, idly hoping Mulder won't try to answer my rhetorical question.

He drinks in silence for so long, I start to think I might get my way, but he sets his beer down and sighs, "Amanda Nelligan...she wasn't trying to get pregnant. I had assumed Van Blundht was in love with her or something, but then he wouldn't have bothered with those other women." I silently beg him to stop, but he goes on, "I guess he was just..." Here he picks up his beer and gestures again towards me, this time letting his eyes go from my feet up to my neck. 

Thankfully he doesn't finish his thought. And I am acutely aware that I'm not wearing my usual two to three layers of clothes. Not that I'm provocatively dressed by any means. Business casual; about as provocative as I get on any given evening. "God, I must have seemed like such an easy target. Home alone on a Friday night, working on medical research...for fun. Jesus."

Mulder shakes his head, paying careful attention to the beer caps in his hand. "I don't think that was his line of thought, Scully." We both take a moment to have a long pull of beer in preparation for what he's about to say. "It doesn't excuse what he did, but I think he just saw that you were a beautiful woman, and he obviously misunderstood...us."

That wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. I nod, setting my bottle on the counter and crossing my arms over my chest. I can't help but feel violated by Van Blundht. And I can only imagine what those other women must feel. The beer is starting to turn my stomach--more out of disgust for Van Blundht than from the alcohol itself. Suddenly I feel the need to clarify something. "I don't know what happened here tonight, Mulder." He looks up at me then, and I turn my gaze to the floor. "I don't know if he slipped something in my drink, but...I don't know. I mean...I'm not...I don't want you to assume that all it takes is a bottle of wine and I'm--"

He holds up a hand, cutting me off. "I would never assume anything about you, Scully," he smiles. "I don't know what happened here tonight either." He stands up straight and walks over to the sink. Picking out the cap I had thrown there earlier, he walks to the corner and deposits them all in the garbage. "All I know is that apparently we're going to be fixing your door tomorrow."


End file.
